Beserk, absolutely beserk
That was me last night. I lost it. I had had a busy day doing a multitude of tasks with my work, nothing complex just tedious. In the meantime, it was four load laundry day of smelly urinary incontinence. It wasn't bad really since it followed a couple of days where there was no nighttime incontinence.
The creeping loss of judgment in daily living tasks is getting to me, though. She had determined to take her night clothes off. I certainly couldn't blame her for that. She had prowled through a closet that isn't hers, but has a variety of things that aren't used very often. There's a white linen shirt and summer pants in there that she is drawn to when she is a mess. At one point, I considered moving the pants and shirt to another closet, but decided that since this stuff is washable and not part of my regular wardrobe I'd leave it there since the other things she might chose would be worse.
But she pulled out a plastic bag that happened to contain an evening skirt and layed her soaked, smelly pants on that. A little bit right... plastic covering, but so wrong... risk an evening skirt in the process.
The thing that makes me beserk most of the time, though, is the hiding. She goes through phases when she hides mail... checks that are supposed to come to me and to her. So, I have to remember to barrel to the mailbox the minute I hear the crack of the mail shoot from five rooms away.
She hides: Cookie wrappers from day care. Cookies. I found cookies in her pants one night when I was getting her ready for bed. That was when my dad was still alive. It was a moment of amusement that Dad and I could share. Boy, do I miss and sharing the foibles of caregiving.
Clothes. She hides clothes. She doesn't have a vast wardrobe since she has lost 80 to 100 pounds over the last five years.
I read something just last week that a loss of body mass was being identified as one of the early signs that dementia/Alzheimers was beginning. In Mother's case, however, she is much healthier because of the weight loss. On the other side of the weight issue, obesity is thought to increase the risk. But. I digress...
She has hidden her glasses. They have been gone about a week. Just when I was thinking the one thing that seems to be working is the place where she remembers to put her glasses at night. Kiss that comfortable thought goodbye. It fascinates me so the way the brain DOESN'T work now.
I had already scheduled an eye examination. But there was a four-month wait. I'm sure her glasses need to be changed, but I felt compelled to order a replacement since it's going to be another two months before the eye examination. And, as a caregiver I'm uncomfortable having her vision compromised for that long a period of time. It even seemed to me that her hearing is worse with the glasses gone. Could that be?
A sheet that I had washed as part of the day's four loads of incontinence laundry was laying folded on the bed. I had a business phone call after I picked her up from day care. After supper, I went to make her bed and gone. That sheet disappeared. I went beserk. I stormed her usual hiding places. Dad's old closet. The guest closet. The guest bedroom. The living room. Drawers. Cabinets. The linen closet (silly me). I noticed again a stain from previous urine soaked pants in the drawer of an antique cabinet. I didn't get those quite quickly enough. Nothing. Her closet. She never hides anything in there. In fact, she can't remember that it's her closet, but every now and then I will find things rearranged. I reach for her hat and it's moved. Where is that thing now?
She hides paper, toilet paper. Pulled off the roll. Folded neatly. Layer upon layer. She hides stuffed animals that she won at day care bingo. She will fold the clothes she has taken off neatly and place them under the pillow or under the covers. The Michigan house had layers of her clothes in the bedroom. The spare room was so full you couldn't open the door. We literally spent two years getting the clothes, never worn, in a variety of sizes out of that house and still had bushels when I locked the door and sold it.
Lately the bingo creatures have been sleeping on the other side of the bed with her. Hidden sweetly below the covers, of course.
But that blessed sheet was yesterday's tipping point. After two rampages through the house, I finally found the sheet hidden under a pillow in the guest bedroom. I apologized for losing my temper before she went to bed.
"Oh," she said sweetly. She had forgotten.
That was me last night. I lost it. I had had a busy day doing a multitude of tasks with my work, nothing complex just tedious. In the meantime, it was four load laundry day of smelly urinary incontinence. It wasn't bad really since it followed a couple of days where there was no nighttime incontinence.
The creeping loss of judgment in daily living tasks is getting to me, though. She had determined to take her night clothes off. I certainly couldn't blame her for that. She had prowled through a closet that isn't hers, but has a variety of things that aren't used very often. There's a white linen shirt and summer pants in there that she is drawn to when she is a mess. At one point, I considered moving the pants and shirt to another closet, but decided that since this stuff is washable and not part of my regular wardrobe I'd leave it there since the other things she might chose would be worse.
But she pulled out a plastic bag that happened to contain an evening skirt and layed her soaked, smelly pants on that. A little bit right... plastic covering, but so wrong... risk an evening skirt in the process.
The thing that makes me beserk most of the time, though, is the hiding. She goes through phases when she hides mail... checks that are supposed to come to me and to her. So, I have to remember to barrel to the mailbox the minute I hear the crack of the mail shoot from five rooms away.
She hides: Cookie wrappers from day care. Cookies. I found cookies in her pants one night when I was getting her ready for bed. That was when my dad was still alive. It was a moment of amusement that Dad and I could share. Boy, do I miss and sharing the foibles of caregiving.
Clothes. She hides clothes. She doesn't have a vast wardrobe since she has lost 80 to 100 pounds over the last five years.
I read something just last week that a loss of body mass was being identified as one of the early signs that dementia/Alzheimers was beginning. In Mother's case, however, she is much healthier because of the weight loss. On the other side of the weight issue, obesity is thought to increase the risk. But. I digress...
She has hidden her glasses. They have been gone about a week. Just when I was thinking the one thing that seems to be working is the place where she remembers to put her glasses at night. Kiss that comfortable thought goodbye. It fascinates me so the way the brain DOESN'T work now.
I had already scheduled an eye examination. But there was a four-month wait. I'm sure her glasses need to be changed, but I felt compelled to order a replacement since it's going to be another two months before the eye examination. And, as a caregiver I'm uncomfortable having her vision compromised for that long a period of time. It even seemed to me that her hearing is worse with the glasses gone. Could that be?
A sheet that I had washed as part of the day's four loads of incontinence laundry was laying folded on the bed. I had a business phone call after I picked her up from day care. After supper, I went to make her bed and gone. That sheet disappeared. I went beserk. I stormed her usual hiding places. Dad's old closet. The guest closet. The guest bedroom. The living room. Drawers. Cabinets. The linen closet (silly me). I noticed again a stain from previous urine soaked pants in the drawer of an antique cabinet. I didn't get those quite quickly enough. Nothing. Her closet. She never hides anything in there. In fact, she can't remember that it's her closet, but every now and then I will find things rearranged. I reach for her hat and it's moved. Where is that thing now?
She hides paper, toilet paper. Pulled off the roll. Folded neatly. Layer upon layer. She hides stuffed animals that she won at day care bingo. She will fold the clothes she has taken off neatly and place them under the pillow or under the covers. The Michigan house had layers of her clothes in the bedroom. The spare room was so full you couldn't open the door. We literally spent two years getting the clothes, never worn, in a variety of sizes out of that house and still had bushels when I locked the door and sold it.
Lately the bingo creatures have been sleeping on the other side of the bed with her. Hidden sweetly below the covers, of course.
But that blessed sheet was yesterday's tipping point. After two rampages through the house, I finally found the sheet hidden under a pillow in the guest bedroom. I apologized for losing my temper before she went to bed.
"Oh," she said sweetly. She had forgotten.
posted by BK Kincaid at 2:26 AM
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